


oh, praying won't do you no good

by bossy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bloodplay, F/M, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-10
Updated: 2014-10-10
Packaged: 2018-02-20 14:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2431727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossy/pseuds/bossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short history of Castiel's relationship with Anna.</p>
            </blockquote>





	oh, praying won't do you no good

Castiel watches Anna out of the corner of his eyes, fixes his gaze far away, even though she’s standing in front of him. No matter how hard he tries not to look, he can still see shadows of the tattered rags of her wings, feathers out of place, gnarled and matted together with blood.

Looking away, Castiel says, “There’s still too much I don’t understand.”

Anna replies, “I can’t help you until you know what it is you’re fighting for.”

Flutter and she’s gone. Only then does Castiel look up.

No matter how little he tries to think of her, Castiel’s thoughts are still tainted with sin.

–

In the beginning, Anael took him under her wing by choice, even when Uriel scoffed and turned his back to Castiel. Anael had faith in him when no others did.

Anael taught him to speak the words which would most please his superiors, the prayers which would earn him most respect. Anael taught him to draw fear in the empty, withered hearts of demons, taught him the quickest ways to send their souls to perish. Anael taught him to read her, taught him to strike at the slightest nod of her head and retreat when she sent him a wary gaze.

Anael taught him to trust. Castiel has never returned the favor.

–

As consequence of spending centuries together, Castiel grew to understand her. Castiel recognized the flare of danger in her eyes, the longing that enticed her and left her weak, corruptible.

Castiel came to her and said, “Your absence will weaken our garrison; I am no leader.” 

Castiel pleaded, “Falling is the highest sin against our Father, Anael, it is heresy and blasphemy. Even by doubting, you act to betray your own brothers.”

Voice raising, wings unfurling, he told her, “You may pray to me, but I will never answer. If you do this, never again will you hear the voice of an angel.”

Anael said, “Good,” lip quivering, and with a flash of her knife she ripped the grace from her throat. In front of Castiel, Anna fell.

–

After he raised Dean, Castiel forgot. Castiel, heady from the euphoria of completing the resurrection, weary and injured from the flames of perdition, Castiel thought of Anael, and to her he spoke: “Dean Winchester is saved.”

It has been little more than two decades. Her memory is fresh in his mind. Castiel tells himself, this is the only reason he thought of Anael.

–

Dean calls for Castiel for two hours, and the eyes of all the angels watch Dean, focused; they watch him and nothing else. Dean’s voice is stronger in Castiel’s ears than that of any of his brethren, and Castiel’s wings are already twitching in response as Anna grabs Castiel’s arm, throws him against the wall.

Castiel says, “I wasn't expecting your visit. I thought–”

She presses a finger to his lips to quiet him, whispering, “I don’t have much time, so we have to work fast,” and she reaches for Castiel’s hand, curls her warm fingers around his. In her other hand she’s holding a knife, and in a heartbeat she pushes the sharp blade into the skin of her forearm, dips Castiel’s fingers inside the wound.

Castiel says, “This is forbidden,” voice deepening, but he doesn’t move to break free from Anna’s grasp.

Anna runs Castiel's fingers across the wall in the shape of a circle, of a protective sigil that shocks his fingers from the raw, electric power of it.

“It’ll keep out any angel, no matter how high on the hierarchy. Try it,” she says, dropping Castiel’s hand and baring the skin of her bony white arm, once again smooth and white and untouched. “Practice makes perfect. You’ll only have one chance to get it right.”

Castiel hesitates, looks away. He murmurs, “You have felt enough pain,” and allows his eyes to focus for a moment on her broken wings. Allows himself to look at the spot where she cut the grace from herself as Castiel spewed insults into her ear. Castiel looks up, looks into her eyes for the first time since the Fall.

Anna half-whispers, “I can handle it.” She’s stopped smiling.

He hesitates only a moment longer, then plunges the knife into her arm (she shivers, Castiel registers), dips his fingers in the blood and draws.

“You’re a fast learner,” Anna tells him, moving closer, breath hot in his ear. “I never told you that before, but you are. You’re smart, Cas. You’re strong, and Dean needs you.”

One of her hands curls in the lapel of his trench coat, and she leans in and presses her lips to his. It’s a human gesture, too fragile, and Castiel remembers Anna’s kiss goodbye to Dean and feels nothing but unease.

Anna pulls back, smiles sadly, says, “Castiel, brother, be careful.”

Flutter. One of her black feathers lands on the floor, bent out of shape, straggly. 

Castiel picks it up, strokes down the spine of it, and twists the pieces back into shape before he casts it back down. Dean Winchester is calling him, and he has been ordered to answer. 


End file.
